A Religious Housekeeper
by thinkwinkink
Summary: While pondering the details of the latest mysterious death, Mattie and Charlie shock their new housekeeper. Set between S3 and S4. (One of the many fics I recently happened across; I wrote this last year but lol apparently my self-respect finally got low enough to post it. I'm such Chattie trash. Yes that's what I'm naming this ship.)
"I just can't see her managing it," Charlie sighed.

Lucien, at the head of the table, nodded. "It doesn't seem to add up, does it?" he agreed.

Mattie frowned and set down her knife and fork. "Oh, so because she's a woman she couldn't have killed a man?" she protested, half in jest.

The doctor shook his head. "She isn't just a woman, she's very slight and far from tall. And yet the poor chap was nearly Charlie's height, and thick as a tree trunk," he qualified, taking a sip from his wine glass.

"Besides, she seemed too… peaceful to kill anyone. Someone that timid and sweet would have a lot of trouble killing someone with their bare hands, I reckon," Charlie added.

Mattie nodded, accepting their arguments, picking up her cutlery again. She hovered over the congealed mush of the dinner prepared by their stand-in housekeeper, Mrs Toohey, before she had returned home for the night. With a sigh, she placed them on the plate and sat back. It would probably be months before Jean's return, and she didn't know how long she could stomach the cooking in her absence. She wondered if she could convince Charlie to make dinner when he wasn't on duty – he was generally eager to please and had far more culinary knowledge than either she or Lucien. Apart from his work schedule and concerns about stepping on the officious woman's toes, he would probably take on the task without complaint. She resolved to talk to him about it later.

While she considered that, the men both seemed to give up on forcing down the sludge and Charlie started to clear the table.

"So, let's go through who's involved," the young nurse suggested.

"David Marsh, found dead on the floor in the house where he boarded. Benjamin Hooper, the other boarder, who apparently had a bit of a grudge against him. Mr and Mrs Parker were down in Melbourne for a wedding. Solid alibi," Lucien rattled off.

"The other bloke has an alibi too, but it's flimsy," the policeman added, leaning on the back of his chair. "Neighbours say that Mrs Jane Swallow entered the house with Marsh, and seemed fine. She's the secretary where he worked, and they've been friends for over a year since he was hired there and moved into Ballarat. She claims he tried to… take advantage of her, and she fought him off, and he wouldn't stop attacking her until she cut off his air supply, and she thought he had passed out."

Mattie nodded. "But you don't believe that?" she prompted.

Lucien smiled approvingly at her. "No. Partly because of what we said earlier, but there was little damage done to the body apart from the chokehold that suffocated him, which by all accounts seems to have been done from behind," he said, standing up and moving behind the dark-haired man. He wrapped around his neck, gripping his own wrist to make the hold secure, and pulled back.

Charlie grimaced and bent backwards, waiting out the demonstration with admirable patience. He cleared his throat and rubbed his neck when the older man released him with a pat on the upper arm, breathing deeply.

Mostly recovered, the sergeant continued. "Then there's the neighbour. She said that she happened to see, from her own house, a petite woman with black hair and a man with blonde hair on the kitchen table. He was on top of her, reckons they were struggling."

"Why didn't she call the police?" Mattie asked incredulously.

Charlie shrugged. "Said she didn't realise what she was seeing until she read about the incident in the paper, came to the station to report it," he said. He rolled his eyes a little and pursed his lips in a way that made it seem like he had taken a particular disliking to the woman, and he was too charitable a person to do so without a good reason.

"How did she see into the kitchen from her home?" Lucien asked.

Charlie shifted his weight and lined up his long-fingered hands with his eye line, visualising the setup. "I went to her house to verify it was more than useless gossip. From her dining room there's a gap in the trees that, if you really try, lets you see the kitchen window next door. If the light was on and it was dark, she could've seen it, though probably not well," he explained.

Mattie nodded. "How was he found?"

Lucien lit up, like this was the invitation he had been hoping for. "Charlie, would you…?" he asked gesturing to the floor near Mattie's chair. She stood and moved to the door, while the copper gave a resigned nod and lay down on the floor, while he gently overturned the two chairs on that side of the table.

"Now, Mattie, do you think you could choke Charlie here to death?" he asked her.

"That sounded like a request, doc," the man in question complained from the floorboards.

Lucien laughed, and Mattie had a concerning gleam in her eye. "Perhaps you're right. Do you think you could hold him down, if you had somehow managed to get the upper hand?" he asked.

She considered it. "Maybe. I could try," she offered.

"Well, you might be more of an even match than our victim and Mrs Swallow; same age, both slight, but she even more so and several inches shorter," he mused as Mattie looked over the man on the floor.

Charlie sprang to his feet suddenly. "Too slow, O'Brien. Good luck keeping anyone down if you don't want to get your hands dirty," he laughed.

She scowled. "Fine. Lie down. I was just thinking how to go about it," she argued.

"Mrs Swallow wouldn't have had much time to think about it," he pointed out, stretching out flat again.

She knelt either side of his hips and put her hands on his shoulders, leaning forward to put weight on them. After a few seconds, he placed his hands around her neck, as though to strangle her. Lucien laughed.

"You're going to have to do better than that," he smiled.

She laughed. "This is my first murder, okay? Go easy on me," she complained.

"If you actually sit on him, you can use your body weight to some advantage," Lucien advised, chuckling.

Hesitating a moment, she slid forward and straddled his abdomen, gripping his wrists and pushing down as hard as she could.

Charlie wriggled under her, testing his freedom. He tried to lift his wrists, but she stopped his from moving them far. Mattie tried to concentrate; she wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness and slight awkwardness of the situation, at Charlie's calculating expression, and she desperately tried to suppress whatever feelings his toned body moving under her was dredging up.

She was wondering if he was going to surrender, surprised. She was no meek housewife, but a young, strong policeman that frequently took down burly, angry men was no mean feat. She supposed he was lean, so maybe his remarkable speed, keeping his opponents from getting the drop on him, was his main defence. A disturbing thought when you're friends with the vulnerable policeman in question.

Suddenly, he pushed off the floor with his unrestricted legs and rolled them over, sitting on her hips, and pressing very slightly on her neck with one forearm, his left hand trapping her right wrist against the floor. His pale, smooth face was less than a foot above hers, and graced with a friendly smile. "I think I win again," he joked, before leaning back and getting up, offering her a hand.

Lucien laughed along with them, but then sobered. "Charlie, you said they were on the table," he said leadingly.

"Mm. She was on her back, and he was on hands and knees, as far as she could see," he elaborated.

Lucien held out an arm and nodded at the table, and Mattie obliged. She was trying not to enjoy the warmth and pressure of Charlie's body against hers, and was hoping that one practical exercise would be bit for the evening, and she could escape to her room to ponder the potential significance of her reaction. She submitted to the second with a combination of pleasure and reluctance.

She sat on the edge of the wooden tabletop, sliding back until the back of her knees hit the edge, then lay down. "Like this?" she asked, raising an eyebrow at the light.

"I think so," Charlie murmured. She felt the table shake slightly, then a brush against her thigh. She stared forwards, or rather upwards, determined not to derive inappropriate satisfaction from the sight of the curly-haired, handsome man crawling up over her. His bright blue eyes appeared in her line of vision, looking less piercingly pale because they were in shadow.

He hovered over her, trying to look casual despite the obvious and unprecedented intimacy of their position. Mattie was either glad or annoyed that their landlord was there to harp on about the murder.

"If he was holding her down, it certainly seems unlikely she'd be able to fight him off. And I didn't catch sight of any defensive wounds, or any at all, when you interviewed her, Charlie," Lucien said dubiously.

"But perhaps…" he trailed off, before putting Charlie, who wrinkled his nose but made no protest, in a headlock again. "There was someone else in the room. With a little more brawn than young Jane Swallow, who either helped her fend him off, or more likely took care of Marsh alone."

The following afternoon, Mattie lounged on the couch, flipping through a textbook, too comfortable and relaxed to do any real study, when she heard the kitchen door swing open and shut. Charlie strolled in, dropping his hat on the table and unbuttoning his coat as he opened the fridge and examined the contents. He whistled a quiet tune, pulling a few items out before closing the door with his knee and shucking off his jacket, hanging it over the back of a chair.

He looked up as he did, catching sight of Mattie, watching him in amusement. He froze for part of a second, then offered a smile. In a hushed voice, he asked, "Is Mrs Toohey around?"

She shook her head and he looked relieved. "I think she's doing the shopping," she told him, and he resumed his search for food.

"Do you want a sandwich, or have you already eaten?" he asked, slicing some bread with his back to her.

"Yes, thank you. I had a morning shift, but haven't eaten since breakfast," she said, setting the book aside and moving to lean against the large doorway between the kitchen and sitting room, sneakily admiring glimpses of his athletic form as his clothes pulled tight on his shoulders and biceps when he moved, and his narrow hips and rear that were slightly less concealed in just the trousers without the long blazer. It was probably morally wrong, but ultimately harmless, she reasoned.

"Are you headed back to the station after lunch?" she asked.

He hummed confirmation, pausing to glance at his watch before continuing the assembly of their meal.

She watched him for a few more minutes while he worked, passing him plate when he asked, then helping replace the ingredients. As they sat down, she asked, "Any developments on the case?"

He nodded and chewed, clearing his mouth to speak. "I had to go back and talk to all the neighbours, even the ones I'd already spoken to. Including the one who was spying through the window," he said. "That woman is far too friendly," he added darkly, more to himself than her.

Mattie laughed. "And what did they have to say?" she pressed.

"Well, several people either saw or heard a car speeding up the street. Might have been the Swallows', but that was after Jane Swallow and David Marsh had been in the house for almost an hour, and they came in his car. It seems like about twenty minutes later, the same car drove away, again, too quickly," he told her while she chewed pensively. "Also I got more details about what Mrs Cantwell saw through the window," he added making a face.

"What?"

"I'll show you later, if you want. How was your shift?" he asked, taking another bite. They chatted for about a quarter of an hour until they both finished eating. Mattie put their plates by the sink, noting aloud that even his sandwiches were more enjoyable than the woman who endeavoured to supply them with all their meals now. She could have sworn he blushed slightly, like he wasn't used to such direct compliments. It was very endearing, in her opinion, that a grown man would blush at someone's appreciation of something as cursory as sandwich-making.

"So, apparently, she was sitting on the table the first time Mrs Cantwell checked," he said, and Mattie perched on the edge, crossing her ankles and swinging her legs, the skirt of her uniform swishing quietly at the movement. "Marsh was standing in front of her," he continued, stepping up so that there was little space between he and her knees, forcing her to still, "with her hands on here."

He took Mattie's hands and placed them on his shoulders. She could feel them moving up and down gently as he breathed, and his body heat seeping through the thin material.

"What about his?" she asked, hoping he didn't notice she was slightly breathless. The night spent reflecting on the feeling of proximity to the handsome policeman hadn't really helped. He shrugged, and her hands followed the movement, treating her to the sensation of moving muscles under her hands that she steadfastly ignored. "So she would've been pushing him away," she reasoned, pushing against his shoulders.

Charlie rocked back at first, but then leaned forward, instinctively putting his hands on her waist as he tried to get nearer her. "But she wasn't strong enough, I guess," he said, "and forced her back onto the table."

Mattie slid back and lay down, and Charlie crawled onto the table to hover over her again. Her breathing sped, and she tried desperately to calm down. Yes, he was strong and handsome, caring, willing to cop all kinds of unfair criticism and risk his own career to save his friends… She lost her train of thought, and found herself staring deeply into the cerulean irises of her favourite policeman. She'd never had a favourite policeman before – she was sure few did. Until recently, it had probably been Matthew Lawson, a friendly if stern man, witty and genuine and always decent to her, as well as a good friend to Lucien, who was much a father figure to her; or perhaps Danny Parks, Jean's nephew whom she had grown to like more over time, boyishly charming and teased her like a brother.

"He was holding her down, and then the driver of the mystery car hauled him off, asphyxiating him," Charlie said, his voice low and a little husky. The sound made the nurse below him flush, wondering if he was as affected by their situation as she was.

Before either of them could say anything more, a breathy scream of "Oh goodness!" came from the window between the hallway and kitchen. The pair in the rather compromising position whipped their heads around to see a horrified Mrs Toohey staring at them.

Charlie sprung off the table, impressively clearing the chair backs and jogged after her, as she had fled up the corridor. Mattie slid off the table, sheepishly and far more slowly, listening to the soothing sound of Charlie's voice floating down from near the front door. A minute later he returned with a basket of groceries and an apologetic smile.

"She has to go out again, and only stopped over to drop these off. I explained, and she apologised for assuming the worst," he relayed, earning a grateful smile from the nurse.

"Good. I can imagine it would've been rather uncomfortable around here if you hadn't. Oh, and she would've tried to make Lucien do something about us…" she contemplated the horrors of the devout housekeeper's long-term reaction to catching the lodgers apparently being very inappropriate on the kitchen table.

He set the basket down and started transferring its contents to the fridge. Mattie watched him bend and stretch out of the corner of her eye, but had the good grace to feel bad about it.

"The pitfalls of having a religious housekeeper. She may resign on the spot if there's too much sinning about," he joked, finishing the task.

She nodded, thinking that they really ought to be careful where they do things like that, rather than just anywhere they could be happened upon, then froze. They _hadn't_ been doing anything wrong, and was she making an assumption that they would have cause for privacy at some point? That was presumptuous, and possibly taking advantage of a friend. But it had felt like he was going to kiss her, just before Evelyn walked in – and if he hadn't, she would almost definitely have kissed him.

"Kissing," she breathed.

Charlie blanched. "What?"

"What if they weren't fighting at all? What if they were kissing? And the husband found out she was being unfaithful, came in and… put an end to it, so to speak," she rushed.

He furrowed his alabaster brow, hand on his chin, considering it.

"Look," she said impatiently, sitting on the table edge and grabbing his hand, pulling him in. He stood in front of her at the same distance as before, watching and waiting, looking rather blankly. She pulled him closer by the shoulders, this time putting her knees either side of his legs. Her position, seated on the table top, left her slightly shorter than usual, so her eye-height was at his chin. She saw him swallow, and his hands came up to rest gently on her waist, much like before. He looked down at her seriously.

"Does this seem like the kind of position for fighting to you?" she asked, sarcasm dampened by the breathiness in her voice.

"She did say he was trying to force her," he pointed out, but then cocked his head. "Having said that, she didn't put up much of a struggle, based on the condition of his body."

She smiled up at him, and he gave her an approving look. "I think you're right. I better go have a word with the doc – if he hasn't already worked it out," he said, but made no move to leave.

They stayed as they were for a moment, both pairs of pale eyes locked on each other. After an immeasurable moment, Charlie sighed before drawing breath to speak. Mattie didn't give him the chance, moving one hand to the back of his head and drawing him down to kiss her. He went more than willingly, immediately returning her kiss with equal fervour. His hands tightened on her, then one slid to her back and the other moved up to her soft, brown curls, burying his fingers in the warmth and drawing a shiver from her. Her own hands roamed over his chest, back and shoulders, and she felt an appreciative hum vibrate against her lips and her chest where it was crushed against his.

Soft lips pressing and yielding to each other, Mattie couldn't get close enough. She tightened her legs around his hips, and to her surprise he ran a hand down to support her thigh, lifting her off the table. She gasped, and he mumbled "too low" against her mouth. He walked them over to the counter, perching her on the higher benchtop where there were no cupboards. He moved to kiss under her jaw, working his way down the column of her neck with gentle open-mouthed kisses. She tilted her head back, panting, opening her eyes when he stilled. He was looking at the watch pinned to her chest.

He looked up and met her gaze, instantly switching back to a more straight-laced, formal and gentlemanly persona. "I'm going to be late if I don't go right now," he told her, ignoring her seductive gaze. She reluctantly loosened her hold on him, and he stepped away with a grin. He shrugged into his coat, making quick work of the buttons and buckle, then perched the cap on his head.

He looked back at her with a dreamier smile than the cheeky or cordial ones he bestowed on everybody else. "Presentable?" he asked, holding his arms out. She nodded, and he walked up to her, sliding his arms around her waist and placing a tender kiss on her mouth that she valued just as much as a blindingly passionate one – more, actually, since it was a gentle and loving gesture she had never experienced before, though she had had several boyfriends with which to compare it.

"What are you doing Friday night?" he asked quietly, bestowing upon her that sweet, innocent little smile.

She grinned back up at him. "I have a date," she said nonchalantly.

He blinked down at her, looking surprised. "Oh, uh, really?" he frowned.

She nodded. "I think so. With the most handsome cop in Ballarat, too, so you had better be careful," she warned, bestowing a more enthusiastic kiss against his now smiling lips.

"Do you know where he's taking you?" he asked as she pressed her lips under his jawline, moving along. She murmured that she didn't against his skin. "How about the pictures?" he suggested, clearing his throat.

She gave him a brilliant smile, even as he forced himself to break away from her and edged towards the door. "Sounds perfect. See you tonight," she said.

Both of them smiled for the rest of the day, despite their mutual burning desire to see each other again as soon as possible. Mattie actually had to move her plans to meet up with a few friends to Saturday, but it was completely worth it.


End file.
